Bus Rides
by ponderer
Summary: It all started on a bus. Dasey.
1. Part Un

TITLE: Bus Rides  
AUTHOR: ponderer  
SUMMARY: It all started on a bus.  
DISCLAIMER: I want for nothing. Except for maybe a Reese Cup, because that sounds delicious right about now. You know, the kind that is egg shaped from Easter time? Yeah, those. Amazing, aren't they?  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know if they live by water. But, I do, so… I embellished. I'm thinking of taking this into a four part series, throughout all four years of university, or I might leave it as a one-shot. Let me know what you think.

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* * *

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Bus Rides

It all started on a bus.

Their first year of university goes something like this:

They don't live together. Not that their parents didn't try to sway them in that direction, but Casey was determined to live in the academic dorms while Derek was determined not to live with Casey. They also don't have that weekly random get together where Casey comes unannounced to his dorm where the jocks live. Nor does he get pissy when he finds out she's dating someone. Instead, they only see each other on the weekends spent at home. They meet at a pre-determined location (Casey's idea – usually the bus stop, because well, they will be taking a bus; Derek thinks that the university may not doing their job with his step-sister), every three Fridays. They don't speak much, except for the usual jab to the gut (to her when he wants one of her pretzels she stashes in her purse; to him when she wants to listen to his IPod for awhile).

While they are at home, they hang out with other friends that are home for the weekend. They spend time with their family. They are exactly the same, except instead of talking about high school drama, they talk of college drama (hers – her roommate that stays up too late and talks too loudly on the phone and never cleans up after herself, his – he's on the bench because he's a freshman, and he can't get older girls because he's a freshman, he doesn't have a better dorm because he's a freshman).

When the weekend's up, they get a ride back to the bus depot and head back to school. They talk a bit, laughing at their siblings stories of high school, reminiscing about their own memories. He snags a pretzel out of her purse and she doesn't say anything, she takes out one of his headphones from his ears and they listen to music together, drifting to sleep.

The bus comes to a stop and everyone piles out sleepily. They look at each other, nod, and go their own way.

"How's classes?" she asks as they settle in for their long ride to Queens. He nibbles on the offered pretzel and begins to speak before he's swallowed.

"Fine I guess. Never realized how much work I'd actually have to do," is what she thinks he says, but his mouth is full of salt and gum he hasn't thrown away and bits of pretzel. She feels sad that she understands his words through his mouthful.

"You should learn to finish chewing before you speak," she muses, taking a bit of her own pretzel. He smirks.

"Yeah well, I'm at university, not at a manner's academy." Casey huffs.

"Maybe you should have considered that an alternative while applying."

He laughs, and she laughs.

"How are you… you know… doing?" he asks and she notices that he had swallowed. She smiles.

"I'm doing fine," she answers softly. He nods and then pushes his headphones into his ears and over the hum of the bus she hears his music. She rests her head against the rest and closes her eyes.

_

* * *

_

This is what you call progress:

While on the bus returning to school after Christmas break, they come to a sort of truce.

"I have a game next Saturday," he tells her while she gets the travel snack her mother has packed them.

"Yes, I heard you telling that to George. Is he coming up for it?" Derek shakes his head, taking the small bag of cookies from her hands, brushing against her fingers. He ignores the smooth skin, pushing on. Casey thinks he looks nervous, but doesn't push.

"No, he has an important case coming up."

"Oh, sorry I guess." She's confused and he looks weird which confuses her more. "Was there someone else you'd like? My mom gave me some water bottles too."

"I'm fine."

He's quiet for awhile, munching on the cookies thoughtfully. Casey keeps an open eye, making sure he wasn't planning on doing something when she wasn't paying attention. He was prone to doing that still, from time to time.

"Are you busy then?" he asks, breaking her thoughts.

"What?"

"Saturday, are you busy?" Her eyebrows are up into her hairline and he would laugh, but his stomach is in knots and he doesn't understand.

"No, I don't think so," she answers simply, shocked. He breathes out.

"Well, it starts at two." And that's all he says and that's all she's going to get as an invitation.

"Okay."

She goes to her game with anxiousness in the pit of her stomach, waiting for something huge to happen.

But, it's a smooth day. She's unsure of whether or not to wait for him after the game and while deciding, he catches up with her. "Um, good game," she says, unsure. He quirks an eyebrow and smirks. "I mean, what I meant to say was… you weren't that bad." His smile broadens, but he's unsure now too, of how to respond.

"Thanks, Spacey. Just don't make a habit of coming, all right? I don't want your clumsiness to rub off on me," he jokes but she laughs and it's a new, playful fight that they are doing.

"Sure, Derek."

His team is cheering as they come out of the locker room as a large group and call Derek over. "Come on, Venturi. It's pizza time!" Derek looks back at her while he walks away.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't really need to. She smiles and nods and heads in her own direction.

She goes to all of the home games she can attend and pretends to decide to leave or stay and he always catches up. He always makes a joke of her rubbing off on him, but it's not the same way he used to say it.

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* * *

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Some people think that it should go like this:

They fall in love. He's always known there's something more and it's him that's smarter in the way that he knows it'll happen but he's smart enough to wait for her to come to her senses. They kiss during a fight and she gets pissed and he leaves with a sassy retort, only thinking of her and her skin against his. They make up; talk about telling their friends and their family. While deciding all of this, they have sex (and it's not his first time, and it could be hers, or it might be her second) and it's great (fantastic, because it's Derek) and romantic (perfect, because it's Casey). Except it's not either of those because it's awkward and messy and it hurts there and please, don't stop, don't ever stop… and it's over.

They fight. They make up. They tell friends and family. They fight again. They have angry sex. He tells her he loves her and she kisses him and that's it.

They live happily, or not so much, ever after.

Curtain falls.

* * *

Casey comes to him right after Valentine's Day crying. "Case?" he blinks at her tiredly, wondering how she got into his dorm. He looks over at his roommate's empty bed and thinks he never came home and he forgot to lock the door. But Casey's crying, and he'll think of the unlocked door later. "What's up?" he sits up and notices he's only in his underwear when she wraps her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest. He's still, unsure of what to do because yeah, this is Casey.

"I miss him," she whispers and it's still pretty loud in the silence of his room, except for the heater purring from the corner of the room. Derek doesn't respond because he's pretty sure he knows who she's talking about (Truman, her father, himself). He's never been sure how to comfort her, but he supposes she knows how he is and still came, so he tries for her.

"Okay, it's okay," he says, putting a hand on her head, to move her hair away from her hot face. "Come on," he says after awhile, tugging on her arm so that she lies down across his bed. He knows she's exhausted (mentally, physically, spiritually) and he is too, so he lies down behind her. She turns to face him, wiping at her face to remove the wet marks. Her makeup is running down her face and he wants to say she looks horrible (beautiful) but holds back and instead uses his thumb to brush it away so he sees the real her.

"Come on," he says again, opening his arm after he lies on his back. She slides closer, putting her head on his shoulder and entwining their fingers on his chest. "It's okay." Except he says it for his benefit.

He's exhausted and doesn't want to talk further because he's not sure of what else to say and he is comfortable so he falls asleep before her.

When he wakes in the morning, she's gone. He should be surprised, but he's not. He looks towards his floor and sees a balled up Kleenex and that's all he has to know it wasn't all just a dream.

"Thank you," she says humbly when they settle in for their routine drive back to their childhood home for spring break. He hasn't seen her since the night it could have been a dream, afraid to break the… whatever it was that happened. He insists on this in fact, and doesn't respond.

"What did you bring me, I'm starved," he says instead. She smiles, as is this is his way of saying "you're welcome". She grabs the bag of carrots and celery she bought at the store and hands them over. He groans at the vegetables, but when she tosses a container of ranch dressing, he shuts up and eats.

That's all she needed to hear.

* * *

_Their summer vacation goes something like this:_

They meet at the pre-determined spot; it's not the bus stop anymore. Instead, it's her dorm because he's done earlier in her in the day, having finished his final at 2 and hers not beginning until 2:30, and she has so much stuff that she begs him to help her carry it.

They don't take a bus either, not this time. They rent a moving van, because the lameness of living in a dorm means you have to move out completely, so he packs all of his stuff while she's taking her last exam and then moves to her apartment, starting to load her things.

She finds him hauling her mushroom chair and bag of curtains to the van. He turns and wipes his forehead and she smiles. "How was it?"

Her smile broadens and that's his answer.

They pack the rest of her things rather quickly, wanting to be on the road by five. They talk of excited plans for the summer, seeing their old friends and not having any classes (although Casey will be taking an online writing course, but that's weeks away and Derek has a hockey camp in mid July) but they aren't exactly thrilled to be thrown back into a busy, packed house – especially being used to their own schedule and privacy.

The small army of their family piles out of the house to help them unpack the van and they take turns taking things upstairs into the hallway. Instead of a huge welcome home dinner, George orders pizza and wings and they all eat on the living room floor, laughing and talking.

It's almost normal.

Casey finds Derek outside on the back porch at two in the morning, smoking a cigarette. She frowns, but doesn't say anything, just sits beside him. The breeze is nice, and it's really quiet except for his exhale. He flicks it away when he's done. "I don't always smoke."

"I don't care," she says, examining her nails. He knows better.

"It's a social thing, really. When I'm out and it's offered, I take one." He doesn't understand why he feels the need to explain it to her, because really, it's none of her business and she knows that. Her silence bothers him, so he continues. "I don't even like it."

She scoffs. "Then why do it?"

He shrugs in response. "Something to do, I guess."

"Since when you do you do something just because?"

"Since always," he laughs, looking down at his outstretched legs on the wooden steps. He spares a glance over at her and sees that her tan legs are bare and they have goosebumps. "You should go inside, it's cold."

"It's fine, really. Becca left the window open almost all year, so I like the cold," she explains with a wave of her hand.

"Well it's late anyways, you should go to bed." She laughs and he's surprised.

"When did we switch places?"

Derek doesn't reply, because he doesn't like the answer.

They begin to spend time together. Not a lot, but a bit. Mostly because Sam didn't come home for the summer and Ralph is always with his new girlfriend, Sara, and Emily is well, Emily (and she's still not quite over the whole break-up thing, much to Derek and Casey's chagrin). So, they spend time lazying about the house by themselves (because the younger kids are still at school for another two weeks). Their parents begin to hassle them about getting summer jobs, but as always, Derek finds an excuse, and they are equally surprised when Casey searches for her own reasons.

They try not to ask for money to do things, and instead find activities to do without having cash. They go to the beach in the mornings (Casey packs a lunch and Derek forgets the suntan lotion but remembers Edwin's old metal detector) and spend late afternoons taking naps on the couch and recliner. After dinner, they help clear the table without complaint then retire to their separate bedrooms or play with the kids.

And at night, roughly around two AM, they find themselves out on the back porch. He rarely smokes, like he explained, but sometimes he does have one. She never complains, but he knows she hates it. He makes sure to never let it blow in her face (because it happened once and he never heard the end of it from her silence) and he tries to finish it before she comes outside.

"Are you excited for camp?" she asks, wrapping her arms around her legs. He notices she's wearing a nightgown tonight, it's short but it's really hot out, and hell, he's only wearing shorts.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You'll get to see the guys from school, right? Are they doing it too?"

"Some," is his simple response, flicking the last of the bud into the grass. She frowns as he does so. "Your class starts soon, too. What is it again?" He knows the answer already, he just wants to fight.

"You know what it is Derek."

"Remind me."

She sighs. "It's non-fiction. It's technically only for third years, but my writing professor said I have a lot of potential so she wrote me in."

"Sounds impressive," he smiles, bumping his bare shoulder with hers. Heat flows down to his toes. She shivers.

"It isn't that big of a deal," she denies, but he knows differently.

"You'd better hide your work from Edwin, I'm making him send me updates from the family while I'm gone and you wouldn't want me reading that romance shit out loud to the team."

"What makes you so sure it's just romance?" she quips.

"Since when wouldn't it be?"

"I have other things on my mind, too, you know. And if you'd notice, I haven't exactly had much luck in the romance department this year."

He frowns, remembering Valentine's Day. They've never mentioned it and he's shocked that she's sort of reminding him of it.

"Yeah well, maybe if you went somewhere besides the library, you'd meet someone."

She looks thoughtful, and he doesn't recognize the feeling in his stomach. It's not right because it feels like he's about to throw up. Finally, she shakes her head. "I don't think I'm ready yet."

He doesn't think he is, either. He's gotten used to her now, and he's afraid of change.

She's the one that drops him off at the bus stop for camp because his dad is stuck at work and Nora had to take Marti to the doctor. She gets out of the car, sliding her sunglasses up on top of her head while he gathers his stick and bag from the trunk. "I guess this is it."

And it feels like too much of a good-bye for her and she knows she'll see him in like, two weeks. They've never gone that long without each other. "Yep."

Derek sighs, looking over as some of the team holler for him by the bus. "Don't trip while I'm gone," he finally, says, nudging her arm with a small, light punch. She laughs, smiling.

"Yeah, yeah." She bends forward awkwardly and hugs him with both arms. It's too fast and she's already pulling away before he can react. "Have fun." He watches her get back in the car and doesn't stop looking until the car is out of sight.

When he's settled into his temporary dorm miles away, at two AM, he logs into his school email for shits and giggles. He finds an email from Casey, with a document attached to it. He reads the title and laughs. It's a poem about cliché romance and Fabio and roses and Valentine's Day.

At the end of the email, he reads, "I'll miss you."

"Me too," he mumbles.

He logs off his computer, and falls asleep.


	2. Part Deux

TITLE: Bus Rides  
AUTHOR: ponderer  
SUMMARY: It all started on a bus.  
DISCLAIMER: I want for nothing.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whoo! This is a longer part. Thanks for the fabulous reviews thus far. You guys are pretty sweet; especially for giving me the Reese Cup; Easter egg style.

So, for you, I give you Part Deux. Enjoy!

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Bus Rides – Part Deux

It all started on a bus.

The rest of the summer went something like this:

Casey would send all of her work to Derek via email when the assignment was due. He would never respond to it, but she knew he read everything because she had found out through her mother that he did (whom he called once a week to check in, per Nora's request).

Her class was fun, but she missed the classroom, full of live dialogue. She longed for the smell of the library and the feel of a pen between her fingers and the feeling of accomplishment after a good grade. Plus, it was always nice to not have to take a class while her younger siblings outside of her door, bugging her at every other hour.

This was the biggest reason why she missed Derek, because he could have entertained them while she worked. (Or, so she told herself.)

Also, she had no one to talk to late at night. She tried keeping Lizzie up at one point, but she barely made it past midnight, having volunteer work early in the morning.

So, she took to going out on the back porch with her laptop, writing under the stars.

Miles away, in the courtyard, Derek sat outside, looking at the same sky, smoking a cigarette, laptop in his lap. He would check his email; glancing at all of them he had saved over the past three weeks (a few from his dad, one from Marti about Daphne, and the rest from Casey). He read through all of her work at least three times, trying to critique them in some way. They were open and too honest and some of them hurt to read. But, he read them anyway.

He would sit there for an hour each night, reading, and then would spend another thirty minutes staring at an empty email, to one Casey McDonald, subject: unknown.

It was Casey that picked Derek up at the bus stop when he returned from camp because George had to take Edwin to a doctor's appointment and her mom had a work thing. She leaned against the back of the car with a leg propped up and her arms crossed, sunglasses on top of her head. It was much the same as when he left three weeks ago and when he stepped off the bus and saw her like that, he caught déjà vu.

"Hey," he said, standing before her.

"Hey," she replied. Stuffing his things into the back of the car, they climbed in and took off.

A late lunch was waiting them when they got home. Nora had pulled out all the stops, planning this dinner for the past few days to please the returning Derek, who would be tired, for sure. "This looks awesome, Nora," he grinned, plopping his bag right at the bottom of the stairs so Casey tripped over it.

She groaned his name, and he thought nothing more than _Welcome Home_.

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here," he says softly, seeing that she is sitting on the back porch. He was always the first one out, in time to smoke if he had one handy (and this being a night that he did have one) and is surprised to see her there, hunched over her computer screen. "What are you writing?"

She looks up at him over the rim of her glasses, surprised. "Oh!" She slams the cover of her laptop down, pulling her glasses off her face. "I think I forgot that you were home."

"That's nice to hear," he chuckles. She rolls her eyes.

"It's just, I got used to being out here without you. This is when I'd work, because it was quiet."

"Don't let me stop you. I just wanted to smoke."

"Still do that, huh?" she asks, slightly disappointed. He shrugs, lighting it.

"Yeah well, the guys gave me a pack on the last stop. Might as well use them."

"That's a dumb reason," she scoffs, but she doesn't want to fight.

"It is what it is, Case." With a wave of his hand, he blew the smoke from his lips. She inhales the scent, realizing at once that she had missed the smell of it while he was gone.

"Ready to go back?" she asks.

"To school?" At her nod, he shrugs. "I guess. It'll be nice to be out of the freshman dorms and into the house with the guys."

"Won't you miss the privacy?" she asks.

"Nah, I've got my own room. Shouldn't be too bad."

She nods, looking out across the back yard. "I'm glad to be staying in the dorms again. It's closer to everything."

"There's all the restrictions though. Don't you want that extra freedom?"

"You mean having boys staying over and drinking all night?" she quips, bumping his shoulder. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I guess that isn't you."

She frowns. "No, I guess not."

* * *

_This is what their first real, post high school fight is like:_

"I'm beyond frustrated with this class!" she groans, throwing herself into her dorm. Her new roommate, Kate, looks up with a grin.

"It's only the second week, Casey. It can't be that bad."

"No, it's not bad. It's horrible. I swear the professor has it out for me."

"It's a major's course. It's supposed to be horrible," Kate replies, flipping a page in her magazine.

"Yeah, I guess," Casey frowns. There's a knock on the door and Kate stands to answer it. It's Derek.

"Is Casey here?"

"Derek?" she asks, groaning from her bed. He walks in and smiles down at her. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I've got news."

At his extended pause, she becomes flustered because he's still smiling like an idiot. "Out with it, then!"

"I've switched my major."

Casey's eyes widen. "But you loved Sports Management." Derek shakes his head and sits at her desk.

"No, I just thought I did. But, I've been taking this other class, for photography. For just a general course."

"You mean, a blow off class?" she says, quirking an eyebrow. He nods, smirking.

"Well, yeah, but only at first. But, I really like it. And the professor seems to take a liking to me." He looks so proud that Casey can't say anything.

"Okay, well, did you talk to George about it?"

"I figured I'd tell him when we went home the next time. I'm not that worried about it. I mean, he changed his major like five times."

"It's still a big deal, Derek." He frowns.

"I thought…" he begins.

"What? That it would be a great idea to change your major over one course that's only just started?"

"Look, I didn't always know what I wanted to be, okay? I had to explore my strengths."

"Yes, but this is completely different from what you came here to do! It's like a complete waste of your first year!" They both don't notice when Kate slips out the door, shutting it quietly. Derek's standing up from the desk chair, breathing heavily, face red. Casey didn't look much better, except she's still sitting.

"I didn't come here for you to start a fight! I was excited and I guess… I wanted to talk about it and I was wrong to think that you'd care!" He makes a move to the door and he's about to leave when she stops him.

"Derek, I care! I care too much, probably. But, did you think this over, at all? This is a huge deal, a life altering event that you can't exactly take back."

"You just don't get it, do you?" he says quietly in wonder, shaking his head at her. She's thoroughly confused and upset but can't reply because he's out the door, slamming the door.

No, she didn't get it. Not at all.

She doesn't see him for the next two weeks until it's their usual date time to meet at the bus stop to go home for the weekend. She's packed his favorite snack, cheese and pepperoni, hoping to soften their last talk. She shows up early, hoping that he will too.

He comes, barely in enough time for the bus. "I'm staying here this weekend. I've got a thing," he says, his hands in his front pockets.

"But… we always go home the same weekends. Mom and George are expecting you…" Derek shakes his head.

"No, I already called them last night."

"Why didn't you tell me about it, then?" He doesn't meet her eyes as the bus pulls to a stop in front of her.

"Have a good weekend, Case. Tell Marti I said hey," he says, ignoring her question.

"Derek, come on…" she begins, but he's already walking away with his head down.

She climbs on the bus and settles into their usual seat. She looks at the snack and throws it onto the empty seat beside her.

Saturday night, or morning, Casey finds herself out on the back porch rolling a cigarette in her palm. Her laptop is sitting to the side, the only light besides the stars above. She can hear the neighbor's pool pump humming along with the other night sounds and she shivers when the fall breeze hits her bare knees.

She takes her glasses from the floor of the porch and settles them on her face, reaching for her laptop. She opens her school email to send in her latest assignment. She has a new message from Derek, with an attachment. She opens it to find it empty, except for the subject line; write me.

She beings writing a short story, flash as her professor calls it, and it ends up being about their past fight, except it has a different ending. She hits reply to his message and types in sorry for the subject and attaches the story.

In the morning, she checks it again before heading back to the bus station. It's empty besides a new homework assignment from her math professor and with sadness (and something else she can't seem to place) she shuts down her computer and leaves the house.

Her mother packs her some grapes and she kisses her cheek. Along the bus ride, she rests her head against the cool window, her eyes closed. She can hear another passenger's music blaring through their headphones and if she pretends, it's almost like he's there.

She steps off the bus, not really paying attention, and he is there, sitting on the bench. She just stands there looking at him and it takes him a minute to do anything, but he motions her closer and she slowly steps towards him. When she's only a few feet away, he stands, resting his hands in his pockets. It's déjà vu, but this is its resolution.

"I like that you think the way you do," he begins and she's unsure of his thought process but he continues anyway. "That's why I came to you, because of the way you think. I needed to hear you say those things so that I could see if it was worth it to fight for what I want."

She understood. "So, is it?"

He smiles a small smile. "Yeah, I really think so." She nods.

"Well, if you're going to read my stuff, then you need to share too. Art I can understand, but it's this sports stuff that's always kept me away from your studies. But now, I'll be in the way. You won't like it."

He laughs, picking up her bag and they begin to walk to her dorm. "Yeah, that's what I figured."

* * *

_This is how Derek would normally react if Casey had a date:_

He would pick fights with her over nothing; her hair, her keener ways, or even her eating habits. He would know to hit her past dating experiences, to make her fear her phobias of relationships come forward until she would fail.

It's not that he wouldn't want her to be happy; no, that's not it. He would want to believe it was because none of the guys weren't good enough for her; that they wouldn't be able to withstand all of the crazy that Casey is.

But, if he thought about it, really sat there and thought of nothing else, he would probably find that he didn't believe any guy would ever be enough for her; except for… well…

But, it would be a crazy notion.

"Are you coming to the game this weekend?" he asks as they ride on the bus back to school. She's thoughtfully chewing on a cracker, a small crumb on her lip, until her pink tongue reaches out to capture it before she answers.

"I can't."

"What, big exam coming up or something?" She shakes her head briefly. "A volunteer thing?" Again, he receives a shake of her head. "Plans with Kate?" He's getting antsy and he doesn't like it.

"I um, I have a date actually." She has the knowledge to look anxious, but it doesn't make him feel any better about it. He tries to hide his emotion, pulling his blank face out.

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's not big, not really."

"Where did you meet him?"

"At the library." He tenses. He hadn't ever really thought of that.

"I thought you weren't ready to date again."

She shrugs. "Maybe. But, I figured I have to try. He's nice, polite. We have writing in common, so we'll have things to talk about. Safe."

"Safe." He repeats the phrase. He hates safe.

"Yeah." She's looking down at her lap, but he's stoic and looking forward at the back of the seat in front of him. The man sitting there is bald, and he takes to counting the freckles he has on his neck.

"Where are you two going? I mean, the game's early, you could still stop by," he tries but she shakes her head, looking terrible, like she's kicked a puppy.

"We're doing an all day thing. There's the concert in the park, and the art work. We're going to walk around for the afternoon."

"So, it's an afternoon thing?" This makes him feel oddly lighter than before. She nods.

"Mostly. Depends on how it goes, if it goes any further than that."

He hoped it wouldn't.

They lose the game and he's angry that she isn't there and she's on some stupid date (an afternoon date during his game that he lost) and he's angrier because maybe she has become his good luck charm and he's even angrier because he cares too damn much.

The team is crestfallen and somber as he slams his things into his locker. His closest friend on the team, Jeff, claps him on the shoulder. "Hey, it's just a game." Derek doesn't lose his tense stance.

_Hey, it's just a date._

He decides to not go out for pizza with the guys because he's going to snap otherwise, so he takes a walk to the nearest convenient store and buys a pack of cigarettes; his first self bought pack. He heads to her dorm absentmindedly and sits on the bench facing it, watching as students pile out for dinner. He puffs on a cigarette slowly, exhaling out and breathing in. He's looking out as the smoke leaves his lips and blows in the wind and he's oddly fascinated and takes out his camera from his book bag to snap a quick photo.

"What are you doing here?" Casey asks, coming from behind him. He's still too tense and turns around and blows out air when he sees that's she alone.

He motions to his camera. "Snapping shots." Her eyes narrow when she sees the almost full pack sitting on the bench by his bag.

"I thought you only smoked what was offered."

"Yeah, well, tough day. Felt I deserved more than one." He shrugs, taking a picture of a couple walking away, hands clasped together between them. He feels sick.

"How was the game?" she finds the nerve to ask.

"Lost. How was the date?" he shoots back and she looks alarmed, frazzled even. She blushes and looks down. "Great," he murmurs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she says and he just huffs and turns to gather his things. "Derek, seriously, what's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing, I guess." He pulls his book bag onto his shoulder and saunters away, leaving a stunned Casey behind him.

She finds him a few days later in the union, sipping a coffee with a rumbled newspaper on his lap. Sighing, she makes her way to where he's sitting and takes the empty seat across from him. He doesn't say anything, just looks at her. She's a bit miffed, but she doesn't really know what to say to him besides, "It was just a date."

"Huh."

She shrugs, looking down at her fingers. "He was kind of boring actually. He's not even a writing major, so that was a disappointment."

"So, it didn't work out because he wasn't a writing major?"

She shrugs again. "No, it's just, he wasn't what he appeared to be. I don't like false pretenses."

She looks to honest and he's going to be haunted by that look. She doesn't fear this, it appears, because she's still looking at him too openly. "I'm sorry it didn't work out then."

She nods and tries not to smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's a sad smile and he knows he put it there.

"Yeah well, I guess I wasn't ready for the whole dating thing after all. My own fault, I guess."

"Yeah, maybe," he replies softly. He doesn't believe her, not really. It's him that's still not ready for it and she knows it. "Hey, I was going to hit the library for some inspiration. Care to show me where the building is?"

She laughs, and it's a small laugh, but it's real. "Sure, D. Goof."

He dodges her small punch and takes off through the packed union, her hot at his heals, squealing his name.

* * *

_This is the sound of the foundation building:_

"Casey, I heard you had a date," her mother grins. Casey looks over at Derek across the table and swallows.

"Yeah, it was nice."

"Just nice?" Edwin joins, and Lizzie snickers.

"Yeah, just nice," Casey replies nonchalantly.

"Are you two seeing each other again?" Nora asks and Casey blushes. Derek tries to meet her eyes.

"We don't keep a set schedule, but he has my number, so…" she answers, taking another cut piece of chicken into her mouth. Derek's looking down at his plate, tense. She can see that, but she can't do anything about it.

"Ooh, is he cute?" Lizzie asks, eyes large with excitement.

Casey shrugs. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"What did you do on your first date?" Marti quips.

"Just hung out, really. Talked about school." Derek still won't look up and the whole table ignores it, except for Casey. "He's kind of shy about his feelings, but I think he's into me."

Lizzie, Marti, and Nora squeal and even Casey can't hide her grin now. "Are you into him?" Lizzie asks.

Casey nods, poking at her food. "Yeah."

Derek swallows, heart falling deep into his stomach.

"I just wish he'd say something about it. Instead of just… being angry." He looks up, surprised, but she's kind of winking at him in a weird, Casey way.

"Angry?" George asks, confused.

"Maybe not angry. No, that's not the right word. I think he feels as if he's being pulled into two directions. I think he feels that I'm scared, and he's waiting for me to be ready. I would tell him that I was, though, if he wasn't so tense."

"He's not tense, just you know…" Derek starts and clears his throat, because everyone's looking at him closely. "He's probably a wuss."

"No, not a wuss." Casey replies softly. He doesn't look at her in the eye, but he's smiling at his plate.

She finds him out on the back porch in pajama bottoms and a hoodie. He's smoking. She wraps her blanket around her shoulders tightly, sitting down beside him, close enough to feel his arm brush against hers every so often.

"I'm not a wuss," he says softly.

"No, you're not," she replies, resting her head on his shoulder. He exhales, flicking the bud away from him. He doesn't move more than that, unsure still.

"I need to hear you say it first."

She doesn't move her head. "I'm not ready to date anyone, okay? But this, whatever it is, is what I want."

He nods. "Okay."

She lifts her head and kisses the corner of his mouth. She stays close, whispering, "I like this."

"I like this too," he whispers back.

He leans just enough to kiss her forehead, lingering. "I like you," she says, and it ghosts across his neck and collar and he shivers in the best of ways. She kisses there too, softly, innocently, perfectly in the way that only Casey could.

He hums and arches his neck as her kisses reach available skin. "I like you," he repeats.

She stops, smiling like an idiot, but he is too, and that's okay.

On the bus ride back to school, they clasp hands and hide silly grins. He steals glances when he thinks she's not looking, feeling like a teenager again, and not that cool calm collected twenty year old that he is.

She doesn't look much better, but her eyes are even bluer and he can finally count the freckles on her nose that he always knew were there.

"You like me," she whispers, poking his chest with her index finger.

"So? You like me," he says back. Their cuteness makes him sick, but he can't remember the last time he's felt so content. He fears how it will crumble. She notices his face fall.

"It'll be okay. We'll find a way," she says and she sounds so confident that he has to believe her.

Because he couldn't handle it if she was wrong.


	3. Part Trois

TITLE: Bus Rides  
AUTHOR: ponderer  
SUMMARY: It all started on a bus.  
DISCLAIMER: I want for nothing. Not even Scrubs, although I love Zach Braff. Deeply. Intensely. We'd have such cute babies. Plus, you know, he totally dated Mandy Moore. And she's cute too. So, win win. Too creepy? Okay, I'll stop. I still down own anything. Except for my escaped sanity.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I rewrote this three times, and I'm still not satisfied. Ugh.

_

* * *

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Bus Rides – Part Trois

It all started on a bus.

This is what happens when you get what you want:

Derek was packing his things, thinking about the upcoming summer when Casey walks into the room. She's just finished her finals and he's been done for a day. "Is this the last of it?" she asks, pointing to a closed box on the floor. He nods and lifts up the bag he's zipped up and she takes the box from the floor and he looks around once more.

He closes the door and they leave, heading down to their again rented van. Except this time, he's moving into a single apartment and she's staying in the dorms again, but as a Resident Advisor. They made plans to move everything into his place for the time being, seeing no sense in taking her stuff home just to return months later.

"Who knew you'd have so much stuff," she says, out of breath once they reach the van outside. He smirks, seeing that her perfect pony tail has almost fallen out. He throws the bag into the van, followed by the box she's holding. She's standing there, sweaty and tired (and so is he) but he thinks she's still beautiful and suddenly he can't remember the last time he's kissed her, so he does. "Mmm, that was nice," she whispers, leaning into his chest a bit.

"We have to get it all in before we get home," he shrugs. She's silent and tense and he frowns. "I know we've talked about it, but don't you think we should…"

She pulls away with a tight smile. "Yes, you should shower. But first, let's check out your new pad. I plan on staying there when my residents drive me up the wall."

He wants to argue, really and truly, but it's a losing fight.

Besides, he likes the idea of her staying over in his place.

They hop into the van and drive over to his new apartment, only a few blocks from the main part of campus, a five minute walking distance from her dorm. Once they bring in all of the boxes and bags from the van, Casey makes about putting dishes away while Derek orders a pizza.

They sit on the floor with only the bare bulb over their heads with an empty box as their table; the sounds of traffic below their music.

"You have chest hair," she tells him in a whisper. He's lying on his back on his bare mattress (a single, much too cramped for him already, and now with Casey, it's worse, but better) and she's wrapped into his side, her fingers dancing on his bare chest. It's sparse, the hair, but her eyes are glued to it; his to her delicate fingers.

"Yep," he sighs.

"It's weird," she says and she's still whispering and he wants to laugh and say she doesn't have to because there's no sleeping roommate feet away and they can say anything and everything.

"Weird?"

"That this is will be the longest I've ever been away from you, besides from your camp last summer."

"It's only a week. Besides, you'll have the kids to keep you occupied," he explains. She tilts her head to look up at him.

"For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted you gone. And just when I realize I want you, I have to go."

He laughs this time, although she's frowning. "Silly Spacey," he grins, kissing the crown of her head. "Just like I've always said, I'm impossible to get rid of."

He can feel her smile into his chest and he leans down to capture her mouth in a kiss and then it's all about her skin and how she's wearing too much and he can't get enough.

She leaves in the morning, clothes rumpled and exhaustion leaking from her pores. He hands her a snack of grapes and Pringles and kisses her, trailing a hand down her arm. Bumps rise there, and he can feel them too; especially when her eyes stayed closed for a minute and when she reopens them, he knows he's going to miss her much more then he wants to admit.

* * *

_This is called separation anxiety:_

He lasts until late afternoon to lift his cellphone to his ear, her number dialed; but he has yet to hit send. He's plucked his phone from his pocket (desk, the kitchen counter, and his jacket) numerous times (twenty-two times) and he doesn't know why he can't follow through.

He's amazing at the follow through. Just not now.

Finally, he gathers the courage at two in the morning because he feels like he can't possibly unpack one more thing and he hates staring at the list of things he needs to buy (in Casey's perfect cursive writing) and he's not tired; not one bit. She answers on the second ring and she sounds the same as he feels.

"I hate moving," he says and he hears her laughter and if he pretends hard enough, he can imagine her beside him. He closes his eyes and pictures it in his mind. (She's wearing his old hockey jersey and a pair of pajama bottoms, barefoot, and she's got a bare face and she's gorgeous and her smile is lighting up the room.)

"It's going to get worse, once you get the actual furniture in there," she reminds him.

"Yeah, the boys will be over tomorrow afternoon to help with that."

"Good, because unpacking I'll do. I'll even organize, but I'm not lifting anything else. I think I threw my back out while lifting your hockey gear today."

"How's everyone?"

"Missing you mostly."

"And you?"

"Missing you mostly," she says again and his heart tugs.

"Yeah."

"Goodnight," she whispers and he's smiling and he shuts his cellphone.

He falls asleep within minutes.

She spends entirely too much time perched on her bed with a book she doesn't read. Her mother tries to come in and convince her to go shopping one afternoon, but Casey insists she has summer reading and really, she'd much rather stay at home and relax. Nora concedes, but Casey knows she'll only be back later with another idea. Lizzie is much the same, wanting Casey to go there and that, and she hates lying, but she's in lonely-ville and she hates that she's becoming attached too soon.

So she calls Derek to tell him so.

"I'm missing you too damn much."

"Um, I'm sorry?"

"It's been two days and I'm acting like it's been weeks. I'm twenty-one years old Derek! I don't want to act like this… this!"

"This what, exactly?"

"Like some girl who can't live without her boyfriend," she says. He's quiet, but he's smiling.

"Boyfriend?"

"Shut up."

"I'm your boyfriend?" He feels like he should be scared, or nervous, or running at least, but he looks down at his feet and they are oddly comfortable in their position. His heart is racing, but he realizes its adrenaline, like when he scores the winning goal.

"Derek," she says and he knows she's pouting and he's loving it.

"Well, as your boyfriend, I advise you to do something else. Because honestly, it's nice not having you bossing me around. Plus, it's been giving me time to hook up my beer lamp before you can throw it away."

Casey huffs. "Just you wait Derek. You'll miss me so much that you won't be able to think straight." He hangs up after he hears the dial tone.

"I already do," is a whisper that he doesn't say (but he does).

She finally folds to Nora and Lizzie's insistence and the girls head to the mall. Casey has much more fun than she realizes and overhears an obnoxious laugh and she jots it down in her small notebook to write about later. Her mother buys her a small TV for her new dorm room and they get manicures.

Later, around two in the morning, she's outside on the porch with her laptop. She's writing about the obnoxious laugh in a haiku and she's sliding her glasses on top of her head because she's laughing when the phone rings beside her.

"I'm blind," he says and she sighs.

"I know the feeling," she says back.

Her mother packs her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and Sunchips for her bus ride. She looks at her daughter before she drops her off at the depot. "Are you sure you and Derek can handle staying together for the summer? You two can barely be around each other at home."

Casey shrugs. "It's not so bad. We've come to a truce, of sorts."

Nora seems to accept this and nods.

Casey boards the bus and sees her mother waving back and she feels like she's leaving something else behind; her innocence.

Derek's waiting at her stop, wringing his hands together (but he's not nervous, he swears). She steps off the bus last and she looks different as she walks towards him. He can tell from the way she's holding herself.

"Hey," he murmurs, standing from his leaning position against the building. She doesn't drop her bag, nor does she smile.

"Hey," she says simply. He looks in her eyes to search for something and he's way too nervous (except he's not, but he is) and he's thinking about their phone call and he wonders how she's feeling but he hates talking about feelings.

"I bought a calendar," he says.

She seems to understand because her bag falls to the ground and she's in his arms and she's smiling and she's kissing below his ear.

He doesn't think they'll get home soon enough.

* * *

_This is the sound of the foundation cracking:_

Derek goes away for camp and Casey, who's been living there all summer, finally has the place to herself for three long weeks. Nora invites her to come home, but Casey has classes and she can't imagine sleeping anywhere else.

See, she's gotten used to the way the sheets smell like him. She's also taking a liking to his shirts, for she wears them every night, letting his scent lure her to sleep. She feels like an idiot, but she can't avoid it.

They are inevitable.

He can't call her while he's at camp, and she finds she misses his voice much more than she likes. Also, she's often caught herself eyeing his ashtray he carries outside late at night, hating how it's empty and not full (and she absolutely abhors smoking). She continues writing to him in story form, short stories of her childhood, how she felt when her father left, coming to live with his family, and the time she really considered leaving.

She writes about her first kiss and how the boy she pictured wasn't the boy whose mouth was clumsily attached to hers. She writes to him like a diary, because he never responds. She finds it embarrassing, to let him in on every detail of her life, but she misses him and it's weird that he's not there to bug her and she's giving him ample amounts of baggage and he's letting it happen.

On the side, she begins to write a novella, about their relationship and her intense feelings that scares her; especially when he's away. She doesn't tell him about it, because well, she doesn't know what it all means and she thinks she should.

Because she knows everything.

Except for this.

Derek comes home a day early (only a few hours early really, because Casey's in his bed wearing his shirt sound asleep and he just wants to stare at her) and drops his things on the floor of the living room. He notices the small touches she's left while he's been gone, like the new fruit bowl on the counter and a picture frame on the side table and a vase of tulips (her favorite) that are red (his favorite color, besides yellow). He follows the well-worn path of the floor to his (their) bedroom and finds he clutching his pillow, her open laptop on the floor with a story he hasn't seen before.

Although he wants to wake her and surprise her (to see her smile, her eyes, available skin) he can't help but turn to the laptop screen. Eyeing her sleeping form, he unplugs the computer and shifts it to his lap, and begins to read.

Casey opens her eyes slowly, stretching. She sees Derek sitting at his desk, staring at her. "You're here," she says. He doesn't move and she doesn't shift from his (their) bed. "I was supposed to come pick you up at noon."

"Got home early."

"Why didn't you wake me?" He doesn't answer and she notices that her laptop is on his desk. Her eyes narrow and she says, "What are you doing?"

"Doing some reading. Fascinating stuff, really. Riveting."

She swallows her anger (and the mix of hurt). "You shouldn't be reading my stuff. It's personal."

"You always let me read your stuff." He sounds hurt and angry too (but he's too calm) and she's immediately on the defensive.

"Well, that wasn't finished. You know I hate letting my work being read before it's done." She stands and crosses to him, pulling her laptop close to her chest.

"Be honest, you weren't going to let me read that."

She is in disbelief at his behavior because it shouldn't matter, because there's plenty that he does without her knowing (and yes, maybe she pushes, but it's because she cares). "Of course I was," she says, but her voice is full of lies.

"Don't lie." And it's so simple that he's saying it.

"I'm not lying! It's none of your business what I write about!"

"When it comes to be about me, and what's going on, I think I have the right to know!"

"How dare you!" she starts but he's standing and coming close to her and he looks so anguished that most of her anger dissipates.

"Is it how you really feel?" She stays silent, staring at him. "Casey, is it how you feel? About us?" She can't say anything because nothing's right and she wishes she never wrote the damn story because it's hurting him and she wants to reach out to him but he's backing away (physically, mentally, spiritually) and she sees his walls building up again. "I'm out," he says and he leaves the room, but she's hot at his heels.

"No, Derek, please…" she begins and she's crying but he's not stopping and slams the apartment door behind him.

She crumbles to the floor (in his favorite t-shirt and her underwear) and she's bawling and she's learning that he was right after all this time, that she doesn't know anything about him (or herself).

* * *

_This is not what her story was about:_

Casey loves Derek and wants his babies and a nice, house with a picket fence and pretty flowers and the perfect job and he's the perfect husband and perfect father and everything's perfect.

They stay happily together, forever.

The End.

* * *

The truth is Casey fears that she doesn't love him. That he was there when she needed him and things escalated from there. She fears that this will end so badly that it'll destroy everything they've ever had (even their obscure step-sibling relationship) and she doesn't want to mess it all up.

She fears telling her childhood friends, she's embarrassed to explain to her siblings what they do after they fight, and she sure as hell doesn't want to tell her why Derek and she have come to a truce that summer.

She just knows she needs him on some level. What level, she's unsure of.

She is her own worst villain. She is the problem with a solution nowhere in sight. She is the climax of the story that has no conclusion. She is the unhappy ending.

He never comes back to his apartment and she packs her things and rents a van and leaves his place (and what's become as hers) and is able to move into her dorm room two weeks early. She takes the earliest bus home and cries in her mother's arms once she opens the door.

She's messed up, and she has no idea how to fix it.

**

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**

AN:

What's your favorite break-up song? 


	4. Part Quatre

TITLE: Bus Rides  
AUTHOR: ponderer  
SUMMARY: It all started on a bus.  
DISCLAIMER: I want for nothing.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is it, folks. Go home, put the kids to bed, click off the TV. However, first I would like to thank all of my reviewers for sticking with me. This was my first short series for LWD and it wasn't easy because this was out of my comfort zone in a way. But, all the same, it means a lot to have everyone read my hard work.

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Bus Rides – Part Quatre

It all started on a bus.

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* * *

_

This is how silence feels:

Time goes by, and not in that slow motion that's in books and movies because no matter how hard things get, time passes. It doesn't stop by sleeping the day away nor does it stop by working so hard, to make the event forgettable.

Because it won't be.

It'll settle into the back of the mind and rot there uncomfortably (and smelly) and it'll be hard.

Does it get easy eventually? Maybe.

Only time will tell.

Casey takes to writing at every opportunity. Every emotion she keeps logged as a diary of sorts and instead of letting herself fall into a fit of depression (like normal) and trying the whole moving on thing (which she's never been good at) she just exists. She writes her novella that got her into the whole mess and sleeps normally and eats normally and talks normally.

She tells her mother. Which was a huge shocker for Nora, but however weird it could have been, it wasn't. She also tells Lizzie, who's really troubled by it, but Casey figures it's best to let them know why she's been upset. George didn't seem to notice (or at least, he didn't show it) although she knows that Derek talked to him about their "fight". Marti is the only true comforting one in the whole mess (which is surprising, but it's not) because she knows her Smerek like the back of her own hand.

She tries calling him late at night when she can't sleep. He never answers, so she switches to calling him from the payphone, but he's smart and knows it's her and he lets it ring endlessly.

When school starts, she settles into her dorm and acquaints herself with her residents and she tells them that although she's heartbroken over a boy, she will do her job and will be there for them. They accept it and come to her during the night when their roommates stay up too late and don't clean up after themselves. She takes her job very seriously.

She attends classes and hangs out with Kate occasionally. She laughs. She smiles. She's hurting, and she's not afraid to show it. She's brave and she thinks he'd be proud of her.

She finds herself in front of his apartment a lot. She doesn't try knocking, but she sits on the bench outside of it, studying, reading, writing, what have you, hoping for just a glimpse. She never does. (He really is scrappy).

She takes the bus, just because. She rides around the town during her down time (when she's not talking to her residents about roommate drama and stalking Derek's apartment and attending classes) and she enjoys it a lot. It gives her time to think about things.

Important things.

Months go by like this. Derek knows because he keeps the calendar marked in the kitchen. He's managed to outrun her (and by that, he means not leaving his apartment until she does because she works like clockwork and he knows her, god does he know her) and it hurts but he's unsure of how to show people.

He takes his anger and hurt out on the ice. He glides gracefully (with a force) towards his goal and gets it every time. His teammates don't say anything, just give him pity glances and pats on the shoulder of understanding. He doesn't shrug them off because if he's really honest with himself, he feels nothing.

He attends his classes, but only really pays attention to his photography courses. He walks to the park and takes pictures of the trees, how the leaves turn from greens to browns and reds and yellows and oranges. He plucks one from the ground and puts it in his back pocket. He goes to parties but he doesn't listen to his friends talk to him, nor does he feel anything when blonds and brunettes and redheads approach him, looking for a good time. He closes his eyes and sees blue eyes and white teeth and brown hair that twists in his fingers and he remembers, "You have chest hair."

He remembers too much sometimes.

He hates that she's still affecting him without being there and he thinks back to how it was before… everything, and how he managed to live (breathe). It's so meaningless that he can't remember what he wants to.

The bad remembering always sticks.

He wonders briefly if maybe he hadn't touched her laptop that day, would what have happened. He likes to think that maybe they would have worked out, maybe even moved in with each other. But, then with a shake of his head, he remembers he has his first showing in just a week and he needs more photos.

He sticks the now dried up leaf into his jacket and leaves his apartment.

"Hey," she breathes, shocked. He doesn't turn around because he's not expecting her, not now, not on the bus. "Mom didn't mention you were coming home this weekend," she says and he's still standing in the aisle, incredulous. "You should sit down, the bus is starting to move," she commands softly and without feeling, he does so, but in the seat across from her.

He stares straight ahead but he can feel her eyes boring into the side of his skull. He feels naked.

"I brought some cheese crackers," she says but he shakes his head sharply. She hates the silence, and he knows it, but he's not going to break it. "I haven't seen you, for like, six months." He still looks ahead, wanting to correct her (it's been almost seven). "Oh, no, seven months."

He sighs, turning to look out the window. "I won't be in your way," she says finally. "I'll be gone most of the weekend anyway. Mom has a thing for work and she's invited me along."

The most she receives is a nod from his direction. For the rest of the bus ride they stay silent. This is what they always wanted; the silence. It's the most uncomfortable conversation they've ever had.

Casey's gone, like she promised, but she's never really left him. He finds her in the bottom of his bag when he finds one of her stray bobby pins and then when he enters his childhood bedroom and sees the stack of CDs that he had let her borrow and finally, he sees her empty chair at the dinner table.

George tries to comfort him, but it's useless. He's useless.

Except when he's on the ice. It's become the only time that he can think of how hurt he is without having to question it. Also, his professor is loving his photos. He wants to run them at his own show at the end of term. Derek should feel smug (because everyone else is) but he can't seem to feel anything.

But being home, really being home, he finds it to be the hardest, because it was the beginning. It was the end.

It was everything.

She comes back home with Nora late Saturday night. Instead of heading to bed, she feels a pull to the back porch. She stands at the back door and sees Derek's silhouette in the dark, a puff of smoke blowing from his lips. She opens the door, hearing its creak, but when he turns around, he doesn't move (because he can't) so she figures its okay for her to continue forward.

She sits next to him and he can see her bare legs and it's chilly outside and he wants to offer his hoodie to her, but he can't for so many reasons. He's still, except for exhaling the smoke from his cigarette. "I'm transferring next semester, to Italy. It's a really good opportunity for me, as a writing major and everything. The Chair picks a small group of juniors to go, and I'm one of them."

He doesn't reply, doesn't look in her direction, doesn't make any acknowledgement. But because he doesn't stop her, she goes on. "I knew about it, for awhile. I put in my application last spring. I'm sorry I never told you, but I was worried that if I told you about it, I would never have the strength to leave you behind. And I wouldn't have. I would have stayed.

But now, with this, with everything, I know I need to go. For me, just as much for you. I know I hurt you. And I'm sorry. I wish I could say that if I could take it all back, that I would. But honestly, I can't say that I would. This, whatever it was, I don't know, it scared me. It really scared me, Derek. I wish I was strong enough to tell you why, but I'm not." She shrugs, looking down at her hands. He looks off in the distance, staring at the cloud filled sky. She doesn't sniffle, because she's all cried out. She nods to herself. "Okay," she says after his silence, simply, and she stands up, rubbing her cold arms. "Okay."

Then she's gone and he can smell her perfume after she closes the door behind her. It's not enough, but it is, but he's sure that it won't ever be the same again.

* * *

_This is not the cliché ending:_

Derek shows up at the airport (like Ross when Rachel was leaving at the end of _Friends_) with a bouquet of yellow tulips and he's out of breath and Casey is just about the board the plane and he yells out her name and she stops and turns and there he is. (It's slow motion.)

She runs to his arms and they kiss and they make up and they talk about everything over a coffee and she moves in to his small, messy apartment and they live happily ever after.

Curtain Falls.

* * *

Derek doesn't go to the airport. Casey doesn't expect him to. She doesn't even think about it happening. She keeps her head held high and pulls her small carryon suitcase behind her, hands her ticket to the stewardess, and boards the plane.

She doesn't look back in regret because she doesn't believe in it.

During the flight, instead of sleeping or watching the movie, Casey writes on her laptop. When the battery dies, she finds a spare notebook and writes there. Her hand cramps but she can't stop. (She won't ever stop.)

She has fun during her semester abroad. She learns a new language and meets new people with similar interests and goes skinny dipping for the first time in her life and she breathes in and out. But, he's always there, no matter what she does. He's there sitting in the back of the classroom, laughing at her poor accent. He's there in the dining halls smirking when she spills her milk on her shirt. He's there at the edge of the water with those eyes, smoking a cigarette, watching her nude form dip into the water.

She's gotten used to him being there. It's a shame to let him go now.

She talks to Nora when she can, always asking about Derek. Nora doesn't say much, saying that he's okay, that he comes home once a month at least, and he seems to enjoying his semester. She gives Casey his new number (he lost his old phone) and she practices the number over and over again in her mind.

It's her last week in Italy when her email alerts her with a new message. It's from Derek and it's subject line is blank, but in the message it holds his new number.

She calls it (not caring about the international fee) and he answers almost immediately (it's not like he's been expecting it). She doesn't say anything, just lets the static of the call be their conversation. She can hear his even breathing and it's the most exciting thing about Italy. Finally, she says, "I'll be home in a few days."

Casey gets off the plane, exhausted (and tan) and doesn't look up to know that he's the one that will pick her up where her luggage awaits. He doesn't say anything, just tugs on her two large suitcases and they pile into his new car and drive to his apartment. They are both silent, carrying her things up the two flights of stairs and he doesn't laugh when she trips over her shoelace and she doesn't yell his name when he throws her backpack (that's way too heavy to carry anymore) onto the floor.

She especially doesn't say his name when he pulls her to him and kisses her so passionately that she can't breathe. He especially doesn't laugh when she rips her buttons on her shirt from trying to pull it off.

In fact, they don't say anything for a long time.

* * *

_This is what you call the conclusion:_

Casey moves in with Derek and it shocks the whole family (but it doesn't, not really). They clash over his furniture choices (although she was there when he picked most of them out) and they get a new bed, one that fits both of their egos.

It's hard, but it's easy (but mostly hard). They fight still, because she's still scared and he's scared that she's scared and it's just this catch 22 situation that they can't seem to escape from.

Except it's them. They are inevitable. A disaster. A blessing. Everything.

Casey goes to his games when she can. He plays almost every game now, being a star senior and all, and she wears his practice jersey over a thick sweatshirt and she yells his name when she thinks he did something right. Kate comes once in awhile, but she's almost always bored (almost as much as Casey is) but it's mostly because she wants to puke at the way Casey is so proud of Derek.

"What are you so scared of?" she asks her friend just as the home team scores. The crowd erupts into cheers, blow horns echo off the ice, and Casey is motionless. Kate's watching her frown. "I know you love him, Case. I don't want to see you like you were last year, not again. So please, don't do something stupid."

Later, after the game when Casey meets him outside of the locker room, she ponders Kate's words. Determined, she meets Derek's gaze when he comes out, showered. He smiles and kisses her mouth chastely. "What did you want to do today? The team asked us to go for pizza, but I'm kind of getting sick of it," he says, holding her hand and leading them to his car outside. She shrugs.

"I think we should go for a ride," she says and he's unsure but he accepts the proposal.

Not twenty minutes later, they are sitting on the bus. She hands him a small bag of cookies she baked earlier and he immediately begins eating them. When he's done, they are halfway to their childhood home. He looks out the window, surprised. "We're going home?"

She nods. "It's where it all started." It's so simple, really.

Nobody's home (Lizzie's out and Edwin's out and their parents and Marti are out) and it's just them. Holding hands, they walk around the darkened house and perch themselves on the back porch. He knows she's going to talk, and he feels like he should say something, anything, but again, it's all that feelings talk that he doesn't know how to act around.

"Kate asked me what I'm so scared of today at your game."

"Yeah, I can't say I haven't been wondering that, myself," he says, shaking his head, a sad smile on his face (one that she's seen too often on his mouth, she doesn't like it; especially because it was because of her). She frowns, eyes furrowed. He looks so honest, the way the moon is shining in his eyes.

"It's because, I guess, things between us have always been complicated. And for once, everything was going okay. And I panicked."

"You panicked because we were getting along?"

"I panicked because I was waiting for it to break," she shrugs. He looks shocked, eyes wide. "Stupid reason, I know."

"You were right," he says finally, after a few moments of silence. She looks up in surprise. "About Italy. You wouldn't have gone. I would have blamed myself for it, but I know you, you wouldn't have blamed me. I'm glad you went. I needed you to go."

"I didn't break up with you because I wanted to go."

"You didn't break up with me. I broke up with you," he reminds her.

"It doesn't matter now." He nods, smiling a little. "I'm still scared."

"I am, too, Case. But, that's a good thing, I think."

"How is that a good thing?"

"Because it means we're worth the fight."

She's reminded of his switching of majors and how he had told her he needed to know if it was worth it. "I should have talked to you."

"I shouldn't have read it."

"No, but in a way, I'm glad you did."

He leans in and captures her lips in a kiss, wrapping an arm around her waist, his hand skimming up under her shirt to touch her back and the soft skin there. She moans, twisting her fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

He pulls away, smiling. "I've quit smoking."

She's dazed for a moment, but then her grin is so brilliant that he has to close his eyes; it's so bright.

It's so simple, elegant, that she can't find the words to reciprocate.

"Good." And then she kisses him.

They finish the school year together (because they are officially together, exclusive and all that "wearing his varsity sweater" bologna) and they move into a different apartment that's actually big enough for both their egos (and all their other things like her books and his hockey trophies) and his photos are framed on their painted walls (she chose yellow, because it's calming) and her acceptance letter to graduate school is hung on their fridge door with a big smiley face sticker (from Marti) on the top corner.

They find jobs (his – working for the local paper, because he has to start somewhere; hers – writing travel articles for a magazine) and sell his car because they've (she) decides to go green and they take the bus and she packs a snack (and he does seldom) and they share his headphones.

Sometimes they go to their childhood home but their two bedrooms there have morphed into one (but they don't mind). They often find themselves sitting on the back porch (him taking pictures of the moon and the stars and the way the light hits her face and her typing up her thesis).

It's not perfect.

It is what it is.

It all started on a bus.


End file.
